


Coping Mechanisms

by futuristicjazzhands



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Wayne is a Good Dad, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Non-Sexual Age Play, Stress Relief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-15 18:05:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12326100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/futuristicjazzhands/pseuds/futuristicjazzhands
Summary: Being a vigilante is stressful. Everybody has their ways of dealing with it. Dick's is a bit more embarrassing.





	Coping Mechanisms

Dick had two very stressful jobs. Granted, being a police officer was considerably less taxing than his night job, but it was hard nonetheless. Any given vigilante was sure to be stressed out, but those from Gotham (and Blüdhaven by extension) had it worse.

That’s why Bat and associates all had their own methods of relaxation. If they didn’t have one, no one would’ve made it as far as they did without cracking. The stress and anxiety and depression would have eaten them up until they had their own padded cells in Arkham Asylum. But they did find ways and it helped them to stay adjusted. As adjusted as possible when your night job is dealing with sociopaths and psychopaths.

Bruce’s method was tea and bad realities television shows. Cassandra had ballet. Tim played video games and screamed at the other players to relieve his tension. Jason had… something? Dick didn’t know but he was sure he had one. Stephanie, Barbara, Duke, Damian, they hall had their own ways of calming down after difficult patrols. Even Alfred had a method to deal with the stress that came from handling his mess of a family, though no one was quite sure what that method was (Alfred could be more secretive than Bruce sometimes.)  

Dick had been fortunate in that he found his coping mechanism early on in his career as Robin. It took both Jason and Tim a long time to figure out how to relax, and it had taken a serious toll on them when they first took on the mantle of Robin. Damian was getting there, but was still learning how to shed his stress. And Bruce was probably still feeling effects of his first two years as Batman when he overdid it way too much. Dick, though, had figured it out quick.

However, Dick was less fortunate in the method he settled on. He was ashamed of it. If he was frank, he’d rather be captured by Joker than have his family figure out what it was he did when he needed to alleviate the stress. The thought of them finding out was somehow scarier than the thought of the world collapsing. Dick knew that was ridiculous, but he honestly couldn’t think of a worse nightmare. In a family full of detectives, it exponentially increased the fear. He did everything in his power to hide it, but there was always a chance that one of the geniuses would figure it out.

He would find another way to de-stress, but he’d had his method since he was twelve years old, and after nine years, he didn’t think there was anything that could calm him down as well as his current method. No matter how embarrassing it was, Dick couldn’t see himself giving it up for anything. It brought him too much comfort.

So after a long night of patrolling the streets of Blüdhaven and dealing with all kinds of scum, Dick decided he deserved some downtime. He took his time showering, turning a routine that usually took ten minutes max into a half hour of soothing hot water and sweet smelling soap. It wasn’t going to make everything better by any means, but it did help relieve some of the tension in his muscles.

After his shower, he changed into some sweatpants and an over-sized T-shirt he had stolen from Bruce last time he had spent the night at the manor. It still smelled of Bruce, like coffee and expensive cologne. It brought back memories of when he was still Robin, when Bruce was still smiled every day. Back then, when Dick had nightmares, Bruce would always be there with a hug and kind words. Dick would bury himself in Bruce’s chest and take in the familiar scent.

Dick missed those days. They were simpler.

But they were gone, and Dick knew that. Shaking off his reminiscences, Dick pulled the shirt over his head. He wasn’t particularly cold, but he wrapped a thick blanket around himself to complete his bedtime ensemble. The blanket was one Alfred had given to him when he moved out, concerned about the cold Blüdhaven nights. It was huge, undoubtedly made for a king sized bed. Dick loved that; It made him feel small, like he could get lost in the soft fabric.

Eager to get started, Dick climbed into his bed and opened his laptop. It took him only a moment to get one of his favorite movies playing, _Toy Story_ (if he could stay awake long enough, it could turn into a _Toy Story_ marathon). He hugged his stuffed elephant, Zitka, to his middle. It was the only part of his coping method that he didn’t hide. No one thought twice about him, despite being in his early twenties, keeping the stuffed animal his parents had given him years ago. Usually, he had more things when he de-stressed, toys and books and even a pacifier for when he was really young, but for tonight, a Pixar movie and Zitka was enough.

The movie played on as Dick idly ran his calloused fingers over the soft, though slightly matted, synthetic fur of his elephant, and Dick could feel himself slide back in mental age. He was calmer, younger, happier. He wasn’t sure how old he felt, but it seemed right for him to suck and chew on his thumb as he watched Buzz and Woody argue. He was sleepy, but the idea of staying up late like a big boy was exciting, so he forced himself to stay awake and watch the rest of the movie.

 

* * *

 

Batman left the thugs tied up in front of the Blüdhaven Police Department. He didn’t usually cross into territories outside of Gotham unless it was League business, but he had tracking down intel on a scheme Joker was plotting. He hesitated to ask for Nightwing’s assistance in the matter because, well, Batman didn’t like getting any of his children involved in matters with Joker.

The henchmen had given him plenty of information and Batman was now certain that he would be able to foil Joker’s plan with minimum casualties. It was late, even for him, and Batman was ready to be on his way home. Not without a short visit to Dick. It had been a couple weeks since his last face-to-face with him, and Batman thought it was overdue.

He ducked through one of the window to Dick’s apartment, making a note to talk to Dick about leaving his windows unlocked. The lights were off, but Batman knew Dick was awake because he could hear noises of a video. He turned a corner into Dick’s bedroom and found his son in the bed, laptop illuminating his face. Dick had his thumb in his mouth, and Bruce recognized the dialogue of the video as _Toy Story_ (Dick had watched it to the point of exhaustion when he was child, so Bruce practically had it memorized).

“Dick?”

Dick’s head snapped up, and surprisingly, a wide grin spread across his face. He excitedly exclaimed, “Daddy!” As soon as the word left his lips, a look of realization washed over him. His joyful eyes became frightened as his smile slid into a horrified frown, saliva-covered thumb falling into his lap. He gazed around the room, looking for a exit. His best bet was the window, but he was frozen.  
Bruce pulled off the cowl and stepped closer, “Dick–”

“Bruce, it’s not what it looks like! I…” Dick started, dissolving into rambles that Bruce had trouble decoding. His face was bright red, and he looked more embarrassed than Bruce could ever remembering seeing. And he had lived with Dick while he went through puberty. 

“Dick, it’s okay,” Bruce interrupted Dick’s litany of half-assed excuses. He laid a heavy, gloved hand on Dick’s shoulder and said, “I’ve known about this for a long time, kiddo.”

“You have?” Dick asked, turning even redder.

Bruce raised an eyebrow, “World’s Greatest Detective?”

“Right.” Dick looked down, squeezing the elephant in his hands and torn between hiding it under the blankets and hugging it tightly. He did neither. He took in a shaky breath before saying, “I’m sorry…”

Bruce sat on the edge of the bed as he asked, “For what?”

Dick turned his head away from Bruce. The shock of seeing Bruce had pulled him from his headspace, but he still wasn’t quite his normal, adult self so he was struggling to not break down in tears like a child. His voice was soft, still with a childlike timbre when he said, “It’s a weakness. It’s weird. It’s… I shouldn’t be this way.”

Bruce cupped Dick’s cheek and tilted his head towards him to he could lock eyes with his eldest son. It was an uncharacteristically affectionate gesture, one Dick used to receive much more often than he did now, something that had stopped soon after Jason’s death. Its appearance shook Dick to the point that the tears that Dick had stubbornly but just barely held back, finally fell and slid down his reddened cheeks. Bruce swiped at them with his thumb as he explained, “There’s no need to apologize. I never said anything about it in the years that I was aware because this helps you. I don’t share your needs, but I can understand them. It’s okay, Dick. I promise.”

And suddenly, it was like a giant, crushing, nine year old weight lifted from his shoulders. He sobbed in relief, and if Bruce hadn’t pulled him to his chest, Dick would’ve dove there anyways. Bruce rubbed his back up and down and shushed him soothingly until finally Dick started to calm down.

For a long moment, Bruce wasn’t sure. Dick, while by no means an easy child, had been the easiest for him to raise of all the kids he had claimed. Now, though, when Dick was so much like the nine year old he had taken in that fateful night he went to the circus, he didn’t know what to do or say.

But then he pulled back and smiled as he said, “You know Alfred would have a conniption if he saw you with your thumb in your mouth.” He remembered when Dick had first come to stay at Wayne Manor. His oral fixation (that he clearly still had) had been the bane of Alfred’s existence for months. He would lecture Dick about the dangers of putting things in his mouth: germs, choking, shifting his teeth, but nothing could get Dick to quit. Instead he became masterful in hiding it from Alfred, or as masterful as one could get with Alfred’s eagle eyes.

It must have been the right thing to say because Dick smiled. His eyes flickered over to his discarded laptop that was still quietly playing _Toy Story_. Bruce noticed and said, “Do you mind if I stay for the end? It’s my favorite part.”

Dick was reluctant, but slowly nodded and adjusted so Bruce could share the bed with him more comfortably. He couldn’t help but let out a surprised squeak when Bruce leaned back against the headboard and pulled him in close, a still armored arm around his shoulder. Dick let out a breath before settling his head over Bruce’s chest. As Bruce sat, snuggled up with Dick in a way he hadn't been in years, he thought about the way Dick had looked so happy when he first saw him, before he realized his situation. He had called him Daddy. That made Bruce so much happier than he thought it would. Dick still thought of him as a father, still loved him like one. 

Bruce tightened the arm around Dick, tugging him close, and smiled. Really genuinely, warmly smiled. 

By the time the credits rolled, Dick had fallen asleep, breaths coming out in quiet, even puffs. He had cuddled up close to Bruce even though the bat-suit armor probably wasn’t very cuddly and had his thumb resting against his lip, not in his mouth but close. His face was relaxed. No evidence of nightmares plaguing his sleep.

With precision and skill that came from sharing his bed with scared children for the last twelve years, he untangled himself from Dick without waking him. Dick snuffled at the movement and shifted until his thumb was fully in his mouth, but stayed asleep and calm. Bruce pulled the large blanket up over Dick’s slender frame.

Hesitantly, Bruce leaned down and pressed a kiss to Dick’s temple, smoothing his black hair as he pulled back. Before he pulled his cowl back on and became the Batman again, Bruce whispered, “I love you, son.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure if this will come across as out of character for Bruce, but what the hell, I wrote it so here it is. Anyways, I've started a second story like this, if people are interested. If not, I'll probably start working on something else.


End file.
